A Long Walk to Manderley
by Papilium
Summary: "What business could Mrs. de Winter have alone outside of Manderley? Still, it was not my place to question her. Nor did I wish to-I was grateful that she was not Rebecca." Frank's POV


**A/N: Like anything else in this godforsaken fandom, this was indeed a class assignment.**

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**A Long Walk To Manderley**

It was a bit after four when Manderley came into view. I had imagined that I had a good ten minutes to walk the serpentine drive before reaching the estate, when the roar of an engine caught my attention. As the vehicle neared, I seemed to slow and I watched it curiously, wondering who could be inside. Surprisingly, the car did not pass me, rather, it slowed as I had slowed until it had pulled up quite close to the curb. A face was in the window, a pale face with a worried lip. It was Mrs. de Winter. Quickly, I tore off my cap and offered a polite smile which seemed to brighten her entire demeanor. She in turn tapped on the glass, signaling for the chauffer to stop.

I opened the door for her, as any gentleman would be expected to do. The girl alighted from the automobile as I stole a glance behind her, noticing that she was alone. This puzzled me, for what business could Mrs. de Winter have alone outside of Manderley? Still, it was not my place to question her. Nor did I wish to-I was grateful that she was not Rebecca.

Of course, I mumbled something about her paying calls since she had noticed my staring. She replied in the affirmative, tacking on my first name with a type of pleasure like one would experience when getting a sweet. We were not particularly close, though by Manderley's standards we were bosom buddies. Not everyone had warmed up to her as I had because none of them knew Rebecca like I had.

We had walked no further than twenty paces when Mrs. de Winter had poured her day out to me. The subject changed swiftly, and I all the while maintained the neutral, proper responses for which I was known. It was not very long before the leaves of small talk were cleared away, to reveal the problem beneath her agitated state: The Manderley ball.

"Rebecca did most of it?" Mrs. de Winter questioned in what she must think is an innocent voice.

"We all of us worked pretty hard," I told her softly. I tried to be as nonchalant as her on this topic, but for radically different reasons. The Manderley ball was an annual affair, and yes, it was undeniably popular—but the image it left imprinted in the backs of my eyes was absolutely horrifying. Seeming to sense my unease, Mrs. de Winter frowned and became thoughtful. We exchanged few words as we made our way down the winding drive. To be perfectly honest, her insecurities of not being perfect enough and her adamant refusal to accept any rebuttal on my part was quite frustrating. Yet I could not be mad at her. She made Mr. de Winter happy, and she was undeniably a girl full of innocence. These two facts alone made her the antithesis of Rebecca.

"I was down on one of the beaches the other day, the one with the breakwater." she told me. "Jasper was quite infuriating. He kept barking at the poor man with idiot's eyes."

She continued, but I had already latched on to a single word. Breakwater? How had she gotten down there? I had assumed...I had imagined...wouldn't Mr. de Winter would have wanted to keep her under a tighter leash? To bring this girl to Manderley was different. She gave new life to the lifeless residence, but to lead her to the scene of the—of the _act. _Now that was tempting fate.

I asked if she meant Ben, and assured her that he was nothing to fear. The last thing Manderley or Mr. de Winter needed was for authorities to appear down at the beach because of some silly concern. I thought that this was the end of her little escapade, that seeing Ben was quite enough for her and she had turned around. Unfortunately, she had not.

"I had to go in the cottage to find a string..." she said, eyeing my shrewdly. I know she expects something from me: an explanation, a story, but I just couldn't bring myself to answer. I bent down to tie my shoelaces, making sure to pull both of them loose first.

"Are they all Rebecca's things?" she asked.

"Yes." I left it at that, but she wouldn't have it.

"And the use of the cottage?"

I could tell this information was eating her alive inside, believe me, because it was eating me alive too.

I told her that it was originally a boat-house, but that _she_ had it furnished. I did not say Rebecca. I did not say Mrs. de Winter. If she thought it funny of me I couldn't tell.

"Did she use it often?" she pressed.

I held in a sigh that threatened to escape. For all of Mrs. de Winter goodness, she certainly insisted on involving herself in matters that did not concern her. I could not flat out refuse to answer, but every word that was drawn from me felt like a betrayal of Mr. de Winter's trust. This was Mr. de Winter's business, not mine. Not hers.

I answered vaguely, mentioning the moonlight picnics. Here, she could not help but notice my sudden reluctance to speak. In a poor attempt at changing the subject, Mrs. de Winter presently asked why there was a buoy in the harbor without a corresponding boat. She must have known this, but I repeated the information back as she asks it.

Rebecca had drowned. Her boat had capsized and sank.

"And no one could go out and help her?" Mrs. de Winter wondered.

"No. She was quite alone."

It stirred something—not quite pity—but perhaps a different understanding in Mrs. de Winter's eyes. Maybe she had envisioned Rebecca's demise a bit more dazzling as the rest of her was. Even I was a bit disheartened to know she had left the earth silently. That she had not been surrounded by people who wished to help her. That she had died a truly unspectacular human death.

"Was she nervous?" Mrs. de Winter asked.

I wanted to laugh. The absurdity of such a notion. "Nervous? No, she was not nervous of anything."

"Did Maxim mind?"

Out of all her questions, this was the worst. I wanted to tell her the truth without revealing the bad in her husband. I wanted to show the evil in Rebecca without shedding some shame on the entire house.

"I don't know." I told her, though undoubtedly it tore Mr. de Winter very much apart. This was the strange thing of loyalty. Even while protecting my friend, I still felt that absolute denial of his feelings was a different sort of betrayal, one that hurt much deeper than mere reputations. By keeping his feelings a secret, I was also protecting Rebecca, and this I did not wish to do.

"She must have drowned." Mrs. de Winter finally said with an air of finality about it.

I nod and answer yes once again. Yes, she did drown. Yes, but...she was also shot. I kept this to myself, but it was true never the less.

Whether from realizing I was a wealth of information, or from her sudden epiphany that perhaps Rebecca's accident was more sinister, Mrs. de Winter plunged into an undisguised question and answer session. I could see the cogs turning in her mind as she mauled over the two month time period in which they could not find the body of Rebecca. I could see her eyes darken as I told her that Maxim had gone up to identify her body alone. I did not think she had enough information even now to piece together the complete truth, yet I worried. The looming trees that lined the drive did not help much with the overall effect of feeling free. On the contrary, I was trapped in so many ways. By honor, by loyalty, by death. Rebecca, even dead, was controlling my actions even now, making Maxim and Mrs. de Winter's lives so much more complicated. How could she do it?

"It was a terrible time for all of you!" Mrs. de Winter said quickly, almost as if scared she had treaded on sacred territory.

Her words rang truer than she will ever know. Suddenly she turned to me and pleaded desperately that I mustn't think her morbid and beastly curious. Morbid, no. But I could not deny her curiosity. Her reasons, however, were very much lighter than I had ever suspected. Her insecurity was at work again, grating upon herself with the godlike standard of Rebecca. Rebecca's reputation alone was unsurpassable, but the human herself was lower than any common person.

Mrs. de Winter flushed at the end of her speech, clearly embarrassed that she had dumped her woes onto me. I didn't know what to say at first. I was still thinking of Rebecca and of Maxim and of their secret. My secret. I bore the burden just as much, more so for the fact no one knew that I did indeed know. My knowledge was completely and utterly my own, and this heavy thought clouded my brain to form any quick reply. Mrs. de Winter on the other hand was only being self-conscious. She did not know the full story, so I envied her, but I could not stand her feeling inferior to that monster. Even without the full story, with only Rebecca's reputation, what use had she had? She had smiled and laughed, hosted balls and looked pretty on Maxim's arm. Any girl could do that.

Still, I could not simply point my finger at her feelings and call them nonsense. It was obvious from her glistening eyes that this meant a great deal to her.

"Mrs. de Winter, please don't think that!" I tried to comfort her. "I'm so glad you've married Maxim. I'm sure it'll make all the difference in his life!"

"That's very sweet of you, Frank." she said heavily, as if she could not will her gentle soul to believe some honeyed words from her agent. I wanted to sigh again.

Finally, we had reached the end of our journey up the drive. It had not seemed so long from a distance, but perhaps the twists and turns had complicated things.

"Frank?" Mrs. de Winter ventured.

I couldn't imagine what else there was to talk about, so bewildered I asked what.

"I just- wondered if you- could answer a question?"

I shifted uneasily, not liking the sound of this at all.

"I shall endeavor to do my best." I said stiffly. There was silence for such a long time that I looked at her fully. Her hair was lanky as always, but seemed especially so today. She bit her nail, out of habit, I suspected, and mustered her courage.

"Was...Was she very beautiful?" Mrs. de Winter finally asked me, letting the words hang limp as her hair in the air. It gave the impression that she had been holding it inside for a while, but could not will herself to voice it aloud.

"Who?" I queried, although I knew the answer. Who else would she be talking of? Still, I wanted to be sure.

"Rebecca."

I murmured something about her being very beautiful, perhaps the most beautiful person I had ever met- but regretted it instantly. Mrs. de Winters eyes seemed to darken in the dimming light. But what could I do? There was not much I could say without giving her the wrong impression, and even the right impression was not ideal. Yes, Rebecca was beautiful, but to a sickening degree. There was nothing I could do to take the words back. I shut my mouth, thinking that there were so many qualities above beauty. If only Mrs. de Winter could see that, but if this conversation had taught me anything, it was that Mrs. de Winter did not only value perfection. She valued Rebecca.

And it was this which frightened me above all else.

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**Thanks so much for reading!**


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